


Meeting

by Dovahgriin (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Dovahgriin
Summary: Cat meets the Herald of Andraste.





	Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> beta’d by the wonderful ollies-outies/bluestrawberryiii

“... I expected you to be taller.”

Haaran chokes on his ale as he turns to face the owner of the voice, “I beg your pardon?”

Twinkling laughter is the response he gets. “My apologies, Your Worship. I am Cat of Orlais, a bard recently sworn into your service.”

“A.. bard,” he echoes dumbly, eyes roving the length of the young woman before him. She gives him an awkward half-smile in return.

“Yes. Do you know of the bards? I make a rather poor one, announcing that I am one, no?”

“I… yes?” _Maferath’s crusty ballsack, get yourself together, man!_ “I mean, of course.”

Cat of Orlais inclines her head with a smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Worship. I am yours to command, as it were.”

~*~

Haaran comes across the young bard again while visiting the docks above Haven’s frozen lake, though perhaps the more apt description is that he stumbles over her. She sits perched on the very edge of the rickety dockside, polishing one of the many blades laid out beside her.

“Oh, hello, Herald Adaar,” Cat looks up, nonplussed. “It’s a fine day for a walk.”

“Yes, it is.” Haaran shifts on his feet before joining her on the edge. “How did you come to be at Haven?”

“News travels fast, _monsieur_. I first heard of the Inquisition at a soirée in Val Royeaux. Then again from the servants at home. I wanted to help bring order back,” she glances over at him. “My mother did not agree.”

“Did this put you at odds with your parents?”

“With my mother? Yes. My father doesn’t have much to say about anything, normally. I expect he wanted us to sort it out without seeking him as a mediator.” Cat shrugs. “We fought, I left, and traveled across the Exalted Plains to get here. I came afoul a group of demons about halfway. A Dalish Keeper healed my wounds and sent me on my way.”

Haaran blanches, then blushes, as Cat slides her tunic down her right shoulder, baring her skin to him. She laughs. “It wasn’t actually the demon that injured me—well, it did, just my hands,” she shows the scar tissue knotting over the backs of her knuckles and palms, “though—it was actually the Keeper’s First. Iced both the demon and me, then sent lightning at us. It was my fault, really.” She traces the angry lightning scars on her skin. “I couldn’t let go of my knives. They’d melted me and the demon together. I’m lucky I can still use my hands, honestly.”

“That’s good, then, yeah? Being able to use them, I mean.” Haaran instinctively sends a splash of healing energy over Cat’s shoulder.

She blinks. “That… wasn’t necessary, but thank you, Your Worship.” She pulls the fabric back up and they sit together quietly for a while.

“What of your family, Your Worship? Did you grow in under the Qun, or…?”

Haaran snorts. “No, I didn’t grow up under the Qun. My mother did, and my father’s father. I was born in the Free Marches, near Markham.”

“That explains the accent, then.”

“I suppose it does.”

“Are either of your parents mages?”

“No. My grandfather was, though. _Saarebas_ ,” he spits, frowning. “He still has the scars around his mouth and neck from where he was bound.”

Cat is silent for a moment. “What does that mean, _saarebas_?”

Haaran eyes her. “It means ‘dangerous thing’. Mages are more feared under the Qun than anywhere else in Thedas.”

“I… suppose the word is true, to some extent. Mages are dangerous.” When Haaran bristles, she scrambles to continue her thoughts. “What I mean is, magic is dangerous in some hands, and a great boon in others. I have no quarrel with you magic folk. The way you healed me— _merci encore_ —and the battle magics used by the Dalish, those are examples of magic put to good use. The…” she pauses, choking on her own words, “The _act terroriste_ that formed the Breach in the sky, that was magic used for ill.”

As if cognizant of the fact that they were speaking of it, the Mark on Haaran’s hand flared suddenly, spitting green sparks onto the ice. To her credit, Cat doesn’t stiffen, though she does eye it warily. Haaran is surprised to feel no pain; Solas truly did do marvelous work with wards. After a few seconds, the Mark subsides, returning to the constant calm emerald scar.

“You seem familiar with magic.”

“I am,” Cat says confidently. “I have a cousin who was in the Circle. I don’t know what happened to her, or if she’s even alive.”

“I’m sorry for bringing up poor memories.” The apology is a gut-reaction, one that Haaran’s brother would laugh at. Cat smiles.

“It is fine. I just… I wish that I knew if she was well, that’s all.” Their conversation is interrupted by one of Leliana’s runners bringing Cat a letter. She breaks the wax seal and skims it before giving Haaran an apologetic grin. “Sister Nightingale calls. It was good to speak with you, Your Worship.”


End file.
